Jocke took a deep breath."I volunteer on two conditions. Give me two hours aboard before you board , and keep away from the captains cabin..Come on ,you have nothing to lose. I don't know you and you don't know me if i should get killed you shouldn't have any hard feelings."

The briefing officer shook his head. "We can't give you two hours. The helicopter will be needed elsewhere. You'll need as much time as you can to inspect the ship and salvage. And since you're part of the team, you need to do things as a team."

Serge nodded to Jocke. "You can read the captain's log first if you want, but nobody goes off alone. We'll need your knowledge to find our way through the ship anyways."

He turned to Nils. "I'm hoping we get less than fifty. How about the winner gets a six-pack of beer? Real beer, too. Not American swill like Bud Light. Now let's get ready."

He grabbed a final sausage as he left for his room. His web belt was already filled with charged magazines and the rest of his gear was set to go. As he looked out the window he saw the rain was lessening to a drizzle. However, there were some black clouds on the far horizon, and they were moving steadily. He decided he should keep the poncho with him.

Once everything was set he left his room and walked towards the helipad.

Of course he wasn't hoping for a horde either, but in this day and age, pessimism was standard. Nils clapped Serge on the shoulder, then went to sort out his kit. Before leaving the room, he grabbed some sausages and stuffed them in a coat pocket. Another went directly into his mouth.

Back in his room, Nils sharpened the blades on his maul and knife, and got the rest of his gear prepared for use. Soon, he was on his way to the helipad.

"Cargo ship which might be fully infested and a storm coming. Jocke mumbled i aim not paid enough for this.

Jocke had left the briefing room just after it had ended and gone to get supplies and his weapons.On the way to the weapon deposit he took a quick round on the market to stock up on canned food and to replace his old gloves.

As he entered the weapon deposit the red halo officer behind the counter gave him an angry glare."Set NR.4 Jocke proclaimed".

The halo officer handed him the requested items adding 3 clips for the Psg-90 and 5 clips of ammo for the Smg.The officer then smiled and handed Jocke a Box of cards. "You can use them when you get stuck out there" The man said with an self-satisfied look on his face.

Jocke left the Armory and headed for the helipad.As he reached the Helipad he realised he was early. After taking a seat in the Helicopter he thought he should probably check the equipment. He cleaned and maintained the gun's. Satisfied with the outcome he dumped the cardbox on the floor and went too sleep.

Logged

Common sense? , worthless things like those i have not had for as long as i can remember.

Olivia took in everything the briefing officer had said and remembered key points. Once the briefing was over, the newer recruit, Jocke, as Olivia recalled, asked a question about going in alone. As it was quickly denied, the team started to head or their rooms to get their gear and do some things before they left. After filling her mouth once more, Olivia left and headed back to the infected barracks.

Once there, Olivia grabbed her only pistol and bolt-action rifle, several boxes of ammunition for each gun, her various predetermined gear and several more batteries and a torch, since she didn't doubt that the ship has been out of power and the internal lights no longer work. After getting her gear all set out, she headed towards the helicopter pad.

Once there, Olivia saw Nils, Serge and Jocke, waiting. Olivia sat down besides Jocke and used a wash cloth to dry her rifle and clean her sidearm. Olivia, just realizing her silliness in bringing a scoped bolt-action rifle on a trip to a cargo ship is practically worthless, cusses under her breath. Gah, so stupid! This thing will just be worthless on a boat. Ah, oh well, it's better to just bring it along, I bet. Olivia thought. She nervously smiled downwards while cleaning her firearms, silently hoping that no one would notice or care.

Despite Trent being one of the first to make his way for his room, get ready, then leave for the helicopter, it seems everyone else had beaten him there. Either he was slowly becoming incompetent, or everyone else was just faster then him.

He took a seat in the helicopter, and noticed that Olivia was bringing a scoped bolt-action rifle to a cargo ship. He also heard her mumbled cursing in realizing this. It wasn't entirely bad; while the thing would be more then useless in the close corridors of the cargo ship, it would serve a considerable job out on the deck.

While waiting for the helicopter to take off, Trent double-checked his weapons to ensure that they were clean and ready to be used.

Logged

Imagination tends to be the abyss in which one's mind can get happily lost...so beware!

Serge took a quick head count as everybody boarded the Blackhawk. He had hoped Icarus would be joining them; that guy had survived the previous two missions and was good in a fight. Unfortunately, he was out with the flu. He would be spending the day in a warm, dry bed. Lucky bastard, Serge thought to himself as he was the last to board.

The chopper lifted off and maintained a steady course out to sea. The doors were closed, but Serge could feel the whole chopper shaking slightly because of the winds. He calmly rechecked his straps and buckles and softly sang "Aupres de Ma Blonde" as the journey continued.

"There she is! I see the Lew Wallace!" the pilot exclaimed. Serge looked through the cockpit and saw a container ship bucking in the waves. Even from this distance it looked as if the ship had seen better days. It had definitely lost some of its cargo and some containers were crookedly lying in disarray. As they got closer he could make out patches of rust on the once-white bridge. He couldn't see any zombies, but you could never be too sure. The pilot spoke up again.

"There's no good spot for a landing, but we can hover by the bridge until you rappel down. You can get through the door on the main deck and then head up to the bridge."

"D'accord." Serge spoke up so everybody could hear him. "Ecoutez-moi. You all did this in your basic training. We'll have to get down with these ropes. Remember to not put all the weight in your arms. And do not lose your grip. The water's cold enough and guaranteed to give you hypothermia. And you know what will happen if you fall onto the deck. Now, I'll go first."

Serge opened the door and was chilled by a sudden rush of air that instantly chilled him. He gripped the rope and began to descend. He braced himself as the deck rapidly flew up at him. The ship gave a sudden heave that almost knocked Serge off his feet. But he maintained his footing, unslung his Thompson, and gave a thumbs up to the rest of his team.

Nils chucked his maul onto the deck, then slipped over the side of the helicopter, rappelling down rather clumsily. He hit the deck feet first, lost his balance and fell onto his arse. Grumbling, he got up, grabbed his weapon and moved away from the drop site so the others wouldn't land on him. He kept a vigilant watch for undead.

Olivia remembered her training well, but was always cautious about heights, more so in a hovering helicopter that is being buffeted by rain and wind. She slung her rifle on her back and slowly moved down the rope with enough care to not look down too much. She hit the deck at an unexpected time and almost slipped when the wind hit her off balance on the wet deck. Easily regaining her balance and walking away from the rope she smiled uneasily and thought, This is already startin gto look like a bad mission. She equipped her pistol and waited for the rest of the team to meet up.

Serge looked up at the Blackhawk, raised his arm, and spun it around like he was roping something, as if to signal it to circle around a couple times. He wanted to go inside the ship. He normally loved being at sea but the chilly wind was seeping through his jacket. At least all the doors and hatches looked secure; the interior would be nice and dry.

He looked towards the bridge and saw a door. It should take them to wear they wanted to go. The "island" contained all of any ship's facilities: the galley, mess hall, head, infirmary, pilot house, crew quarters, and officers' cabins. It would also contain passageways to the engines and cargo bay. There were multiple floors going both up and down, so they'd have their work cut out for them.

He walked up towards the door and tried to push it open. It gave partway but then stuck there. The last people to leave (or to stay) must have locked it. He could see some corrosion and metal fatigue at some of the hinges. It just needed a little bit of forcing. Serge didn't have a breaching charge on him. He momentarily considered firing a burst from his gun and breaking the lock. Then he snickered and chided himself; that only happened in movies and would probably send ricocheting bullets into his team. He had a better idea. He tapped Nils on the shoulder. "Think you can break down that door for us?"

Serge stepped a comfortable distance back and aimed his Thompson at the door. Any zombies would be hit by a hail of bullets.

((There aren't any zombies roaming on the deck. They would have been swept overboard long ago.))

Nils nodded and strode over to the door. Kneeling by it, he inspected the door, paying particular attention to the lock and the area around it. Taking a step back, he rolled his shoulders. "Dis will make dem all know we are here." he announced. Bit of an obvious statement, but he was working with people he didn't know, so he wanted to be sure they'd expect the worst.

Hefting his maul, he swung a powerful blow at the door, the sledgehammer crashing into the door just next to the lock.

As the scouting was complete and Jocke was rappelling down on the deck he heard a loud noise coming from the closest entrance.He unshouldered his Mp7 and ran towards the area.

As he looked around the corner he saw the two men involved standing happily and abut to enter . Jocke called out to the two and pointed at a now broken beam lockin the upper corner of the door.

He stood there Laughing at them as the two realised their mistake.Jocke stepped out on the open deck to lock for Olivia but was caught in a large wave crossing the deck and was swept towards the edge of the ship.-Shit , SHIT SHIT!!- Jocke screamed as the Edge came closer and closer .Just as he flew over the edge the rifle strap was caught in the rusty remain of the railing and left him hanging only a few yards above sea level.

-Dammit- Jocke proclaimed, hi The strap was biting in to his skin more and more and he had dropped his communication, Screaming would be nearly pointless. If nobody saw him glide away there were only a minimal chance he was gonna get out of there.He tried to get a hold of the situation, His left arm was bleeding slightly there was blood dripping from above the eyes and he had a terrible headache.As he was estimating his survival rate he got a glimpse through the small round window closest to him. ' Movement, there were definitely movement down there!

(( There could have been a few zombies trapped in between containers.(This one ain't dead right?) ))

Logged

Common sense? , worthless things like those i have not had for as long as i can remember.